Incubi, Succubi
by Koyuki Aode
Summary: [Demons, Nightmares] Shounen ai/yaoi-YxO AxK ?xN, language, death, spoilers up the wazoo and squick for shota and demon possession stuff. Schwarz and Weiß face old foes out for more than payback: Estet?! Three certain fogies get a revenge fic! *Ch. 6*
1. Prologue: Homecoming

started: 1:54 PM 2/10/01  
  
--  
  
~ 0 ~ Homecoming  
  
"This bloody road remains a mystery,  
This sudden darkness fills the air..."   
- Pat Benatar, Invincible  
  
--  
  
/We've been waiting here for so long./  
  
/Remember who we were. We can forget our names, but we must remember... /  
  
/We still have an objective to fulfill./  
  
/We still have power./  
  
*  
  
Ridden with sleep, the angel curled up against an intangible source of warmth. Bright eyes were lidded closed and flecks of paled blue were guarded by fluttering lashes. Nearly translucent locks lay wildly around the slightly flushed face, several strands blown about by the creature's own breaths and shudders. Dry lips were parted for the way of shallow gasps.  
  
He suffered from a fever, a consequence of the flu virus that took his body not two nights before, and it did not let up. He was no longer the exuberant youth of many weapons; fever had transformed him into a pale, helpless iota of energy. The ailment left him weak, incapacitated, and vulnerable. Most importantly, vulnerable. He sensed neither the chills that wracked his body, nor the fever that ate at his mind.--  
  
The blinds that shielded his room from the outside world thrashed, and wind pushed through the open window gratefully, as if bearing the most precious of gifts. Shadows grew and teetered with the shifts of light, incurred by the glow of the silver sickle hanging in the evening sky and the city below it. The computer flickered with life, then slept once more.   
  
And he stirred, shivering fiercely in discomfort. It was not the cold that caused his muscles to tremor, but rather, the shadows. He did not know the icy fingers of the disembodied Malice as they ran over his chest, gripped his wrists and neck. His cotton-socked feet could not identify the numbness that set in.   
  
With a whimper, he rolled over, pulling the covers closer and causing the glitter of Tokyo to shimmer against his white sheets. After a minute of curling into himself, his limbs eased back into sleep. He buried his face into the warm pillow and let out a large sigh.  
  
The water in the bedside bowl was instantly set with ripples. A lone history book on his desk flipped open.   
  
--He sensed neither the friends that came to care for him, nor the enemies that came to take him.   
  
For there, in the darkness of his room, were three eager souls. Neither demons nor murderers, they were Devils to be feared. Trapped in the after-death, waiting.   
  
Just waiting.  
  
Too long.  
  
*  
  
/Here, the angel sleeps. He is weak, he will be useful./  
  
/He gave me pain./  
  
/Let's take him first. Then exact our revenge./  
  
/Neither white nor black shall feel the victory of life./  
  
/He took my life./  
  
/He's only a child. They all are. Idiots./   
  
/You're going first?/  
  
/He killed me./  
  
/Give them hell./  
  
/For us./  
  
/You'll get your chance./  
  
/It would only be too soon./  
  
*  
  
The walls of the room began to rumble, as well as the floor, and had anyone been watching, the objects would have seemed stuck in an eerie state of animation.  
  
The disturbance wasn't obvious to the outside world; the entities were careful with their excitement.  
  
The desk and shelf seemed to rock in their places, the computer squeaking in response to the movement. CDs shook in their racks, and a lamp shuddered in fright. The flowers of the room immediately began to wither.  
  
And finally, when everything was askew, when all of the frames on the wall were tilted, and the calendar had somehow torn to the month of October, the shadows and shimmers of Tokyo danced to the bed covers. The room throbbed with potential energy.  
  
It was time.   
  
In one rough tug, the blankets parted with their occupant and bed, casting the boy in heart-stopping frigidity. Before more than his shocked gasp was expelled from his lungs, the icy hands manifested again - one on his throat, the other on his heart. He lay in near-suffocation for a moment, but it was not enough.   
  
The once blank eyes raged back to life in a sudden rush of urgency and adrenaline. Even with his lungs burning, and heart freezing to death, he jerked his body forward, arms flailing wildly. He was successful, having an actual body versus the lack of one, and stumbled out of the bed, calling for his friends. But when his knees hit the floorboards, so did his equilibrium; his fever worked in favor of his aggressors.   
  
The biting temperature caused him to withdraw both physically and mentally, and his vision blurred. Then he felt himself being tugged away.   
  
Strong, he thought, as his fingers skittered desperately beneath his fallen pillow. Too strong... 


	2. Chapter 1: Coup

--  
  
~ 1 ~ Coup  
  
"What are we waiting for? Won't anybody help us?  
What are we waiting for?..."  
- Pat Benatar, Invincible  
  
--  
  
Ken Hidaka was tired. In the fog of post-mission exhaustion, he knew only that much. Wrapped in flimsy cotton pajamas, chiseled portions of the boy's tan limbs were strewn about the couch in ways he never imagined possible. His head lolled (almost impossibly) off of a cushion, an inch between his drooping chocolate locks and the floor. Through half-lidded eyes, he nodded to himself, mumbling through the drone of the Home Shopping Network. "... Tired. Sleep. Need..."   
  
"Good Morning!" A sugar-coated voice interjected into his self-musings.   
  
"What the-" he jerked in surprise, promptly tumbling off of the structure as bouncing music began to pound into his head. He landed in a heap on the floor, and cringed as the remote control followed his lead, landing deftly on his forehead. "Ow!"  
  
A striking chord played twice, then sizzled into said sugar-coated voice spouting a "Ba-dah ba-dah hehe!" and repeated once more before stopping.   
  
"Huh?!" Regarding the entirety of the living room with a scrutinizing eye, the brunette pushed himself onto his elbows.  
  
"Good morning!" The music started up again.   
  
In sudden realization, Ken rolled his eyes. "Oh THAT!" As the music jarred his sense of hearing, he reached around the couch and grabbed a Hello Kitty alarm clock. The alarm's loud volume caused it the small cat body to vibrate, as he stared at the 11 o'clock position of its hands.  
  
Empty black ovals stared up at him, and the etched smile teased him as the chords bounced. "Ba-dah ba-dah hehe! Go-" His hand clamped onto the small device's speaker, the back of the mysterious white animal's red-eared cowl.   
  
/Button. Orange button. Push orange button./  
  
"Morning. Yes, I know - you tell me every time," he grimaced as he set the clock back down. Suddenly, the fruitless tick-tocking of the clock became painfully audible. A frown crept onto his face as he noted the darkness seeping through the windows. "But, it isn't quite that early, now is it, you little plastic demon?"   
  
The clock smiled blankly in reply, hands moving methodically at its belly. Soon a large fluff of calico pounced in the way of Ken's view, and stared into the challenging pair of chestnut brown eyes with its own lime green orbs.   
  
"Kiki, how're you doing?" Ken immediately softened his gaze, and moved a hand along the animal's thin, confident back. The kitten was actually Omi's, left to the boy after Momoe's death. But Omi was caught with the flu virus, not two weeks after the tragedy. Since animals get sick easily and she'd been guarded from his room, Kiki had taken to spending her hours with Ken, the next best thing.   
  
Aya had accidentally kicked the animal when she surreptitiously tried to nuzzle his legs, and scarred her for life. Youji just was not attractive to her, neither was she to him. Being known as "the Beast" by half of the Weiß team, Kiki hardly had a heart to call her own. Even if Ken had been slightly allergic to her at first, he'd taken to finding comfort in her confident affection, and she complied willingly.  
  
"You must be lonely without Omi, huh?" He gently picked her up, and she mewled without resistence as he placed her into his lap. His fingertips ran along her neck a few times, then he rubbed between her ears with his knuckles.   
  
A muffled cry sounded from one of the rooms, and Kiki tensed suddenly, emitting a small growl. Ken's head snapped up. "Oh crap! OMI!" Pushing the cat back out of his lap, he remembered *why* he'd gotten up at 11 o'clock PM. With a curse, he grabbed the waiting medicine bottle and rushed to the kitchen for a thermometer.   
  
*  
  
"Ken-kun..." Omi whimpered softly, doubled over from the icy grip in his chest. Barely supporting himself with one palm on the floor, his teeth chattered roughly. Invisible hands were creeping beneath his shirt, lifting his only barrier to the cold. His exposed skin seared at the cold of the room. Beneath his body, his legs were numb, and he clenched and unclenched his fist against the strange prickling in his muscles - his circulation was being cut off.  
  
/SILENCE!/  
  
A stab of pain interrupted the blonde's crumbling thoughts, and he cried out again.   
  
Someone tried to open the door, hindered by the lock. "Omi?"  
  
Frigid hands locked onto his vocal chords, and held his jaw shut. The floorboards were shuddering with him, and he heard the wind through the clattering blinds. It was howling at him - no - to him. His eyes squeezed shut against the invading cold, and he shook violently, feverish body beheld with attack and rejection.   
  
/Ken-kun./   
  
"Omi! Open the door!" The door jarred within the hold of its bolts.   
  
Suddenly, he found that his face was on the floor, cheek pressed against the silenced wood. He lay completely collapsed, his mind unable to handle the panic rising within him.   
  
Omi had stopped breathing.  
  
/What are you doing to me?/  
  
/Isn't it obvious? I'm taking your body./  
  
*  
  
The creatures fluttered about the small, pale hand, oblivious to the aura surrounding them. One rested patiently at a skinfold, the other tapped lightly at a smooth knuckle, and the third wobbled drunkenly through the air, on silken appendages. The three butterflies, wings flickering between pale lemon yellow and deeper lime-tinted hues in the scattered rays of window blinds, seemed to have no other objective than to tease the boy's fingers.   
  
Nagi Naoe smiled at the life flitting about his palm.   
  
/Like moths to a flame./   
  
"Do we have a small glass case of any kind?" The boy turned his midnight blue eyes toward the standing wall of English-printed newspaper at his left, tugging slightly at the top edge. "Can I keep them, Crawford?"  
  
"Use a jar. Poke holes in the lid." Crawford's bored voice boomed over the rustling of turning pages, and a slight glint of lenses was seen over the gray barrier. "Where did you get them?"  
  
Nagi shrugged, rosy lips tugged into a rueful smile. "They followed me home?"  
  
"Funny things to keep as pets-- Ah... Never mind." Crawford pulled the newspaper down to reveal an expectant frown.   
  
"Huh?-HEY!" An ashen arm reached from the unlit portion of the room and snatched the two butterflies perched atop Nagi's hand. "Farfie!"  
  
Farfello opened his palm to reveal one smushed insect, and another with its wings caught between his middle and index finger. A half-smile broadcasted his discontent with the animals. "I don't like these two."   
  
"Farfello, those are mine!... Were mine. Here, give me that one." The brunette made an effort to pry his teammate's fingers apart for his butterfly's freedom. Keeping the convulsing animal within a bubble of protection, Nagi watched as the third drunken butterfly floated to the Irishman's nose.   
  
Nagi kept his mouth open, ready to utter warning as Farfarello raised his already murderous palm. Calloused fingers moved slowly to their target. "Mm." He made eye contact with Nagi and smirked. "I like this one." He scrunched his nose, and the insect fluttered to his waiting hand.   
  
*  
  
"KEN!" Youji's door flew open, and a head of mussed blonde hair poked out of the jarred doorway. "We finished tonight's mission in about ten seconds. Why am I still awake?!" Not only awake, Youji thought as he fished in his robe pocket, smokeless. He glared through the dim hallway at the ruckus.  
  
"Just a - UNGH! - SECOND!" Ken stumbled backwards after finally kicking the door open, and evening air invaded the rest of the building as it ricocheted on its hinges. When he regained his balance, he peered into the dark room, and cursed. "Youji, come on!" Ken tossed the slim thermometer case to the blonde as he rushed in.   
  
"What the-SHIT! It's cold in here!" Youji gasped through a breath of fog as he walked into the brisk room. He flicked the small bedside lamp on. "What happened?" he asked as he knelt beside Ken. Omi lay unconscious in his arms, breathing lightly through his mouth. The little color in his skin made him look almost like a fresh corpse. Youji shook the image from his head, then focused again on the feverish tinge in the boy's face.  
  
Ken shook his head, hands on the boy's forehead and arm to gauge a temperature. "I don't know, but his fever has gotten worse. Let's get him back to the bed." Youji nodded, and wordlessly helped carry the warm body. After reaching the warmth of his sheets, Omi began to shiver.  
  
"S-samui..." The boy clutched Youji's arm as Ken plucked the thermometer from his grasp and inserted it into Omi's mouth.  
  
"He wasn't this sick before, was he?" Youji frowned, pulling the blankets up as high as he could.  
  
Ken spied the open window and closed it, pointing to the blonde's watch. "The last time I checked, he wasn't. Take it out in two minutes, then give him the medicine." He gestured to the water glass and pill bottle in the hallway as he rubbed sleep away from his eyes. "I'll go look for more blankets."   
  
"You can steal Aya's, he'll be staying at his sister's place all night."   
  
*  
  
/You can continue fighting for your body, and kill your friend, or you can give yourself up./  
  
/NO! No... Don't hurt them. Promise me you won't hurt them./  
  
/The dart in your hand will do well in his chest - like the arrow you put in mine./   
  
/Please./  
  
/No trying to kill yourself, now. Control. Complete control./  
  
*  
  
Something fell to the floor, and Omi shifted towards Youji's warmth. The man craned his neck to see the object, but looked up as a shadow approached the room. His face soured as he raised his gaze to the visitor. "Kiki!" He hissed, the animosity of his voice matching that of the kitten's. "You, get out! Now!"   
  
The glow of her lime green eyes had become an eerie chartreuse - her pupiles minimized to black slits as she emitted the low angry noise from her throat. Her tail stood straight up, and the fur of her back followed suit.   
  
Youji stood and raised a fist, in threat. "Go!" Backing away slowly, Kiki muttered a few course mewls and skittered away. He settled again and glanced at his watchface, noting the end of the two minute wait.   
  
*  
  
/Who are you?/  
  
/Aria Mikata./  
  
/I've never heard of you. I've never seen your name on a target list./  
  
/Of course not. You had no idea who I was when you murdered me. But you're a smart boy. Here's a hint: you have three guesses./  
  
/I don't...understand./  
  
/It hurt like this./  
  
*  
  
"102.5," Youji peered at the small line of mercury. "That's pretty bad, kid." He looked back down at Omi, who had stopped shivering. In fact, the boy had stilled rather abruptly, still attached to his arm.  
  
For his own peace-of-mind, Youji put his hand against Omi's cheek and felt his light breathing. "You're so warm. Get better, ok? You're scaring the hell out of Ken ... and me too."  
  
"Youji-kun..." He croaked out, after exploding with a sudden cough.   
  
Omi grunted as pain ripped through his back and stabbed his chest, and he saw someone - a blur a gray in his mind - fall to the floor. He saw the Ani Museum, and a great body of water. He also saw the table of a ritual - where an unconscious Sakura was layed out.   
  
/Oh God.../  
  
/It's a little late for that./  
  
"Omi, daijoubu?"  
  
/Estet, Youji. It's Estet./  
  
Omi wanted to tell the man everything, to warn him, to tell him his fear, and to thank him for caring. But he soon realized that he was no longer seeing the world through his eyes, he was feeling the presence of everything in this room, and feeling the warm aura that was next to him - as well as the torrent of frigidity that had taken his place. He no longer had a voice to speak with, nor limbs to move. As he felt the command of his body being ripped away from his soul, his lips quirked up, involuntarily.  
  
/So that's his name./   
  
"Youji." He nuzzled the man's colder hand with his cheek and clutched his arm tightly. "Stay with me. It's just.. cold." With those last words, darkness creeped around him, until all was silent.  



	3. Chapter 2: Koe

--  
  
~ 2 ~ Koe [Voice]  
  
"We can't afford to be innocent;  
Stand up and face the enemy..."  
- Pat Benatar, Invincible  
  
--  
  
When light hit Omi's eyes again, he was not surprised. Being without a body - chained to one he couldn't control, without tangible feelings like exhaustion or hunger - he found that he had much time on his hands - too much time. But enough time to think about his situation, and form questions, as well as plan a solution.   
  
Curiosity began to stain his solitary existence, as well as the boredom of being unable to move. He imagined that perhaps, if she had not been so far gone, this is what Aya's beloved sister might have gone through. So, those visits in the hospital were justified; as he'd read before. He knew that stimulus of the brain was necessary for coma patients to keep going, but he could never imagine the torture of sleep barriers. Now he knew all too well. And he had only one, annoying visitor.  
  
"Ah. Good morning." Omi felt himself stretch and fall back into bed, withdrawing into the sheets. "It's nice to sleep again - for two whole days! I've been needing that. Oh, I think our fever's gone down." Lazy fingers opened into the air, and the bed-side thermometer flew into his hand.   
  
It was strange for him to hear someone else using his voice.   
  
/Are you enjoying my body?/  
  
"I can't wait to try it out I'm going to love being young again." He shook the small stick a few times, then checked the gauge. After confirming that it was at 98.6, the cold metal portion was slipped under his tongue.   
  
/What are you planning to do with it?/  
  
"Carry out a few objectives here and there, some revenge, personal vendettas. My associates will be joining us shortly."   
  
/What makes you think that you'll get away with this?/  
  
"I have my ways."   
  
/It won't work./  
  
"I'm part of Estet, dear. The fact that you killed us was a fluke. We won't let it happen again. Our plan makes it nearly impossible."  
  
/Why do you need me for it?/  
  
"You'll find out eventually." He sat up and hugged the blankets in his lap. "Won't he, David?"   
  
/If he survives./  
  
Within captivity, Omi's soul jolted. He hadn't considered that aspect of the situation.  
  
/Yeah, you're timestamped, kid./  
  
In one movement, he jumped off the bed, and hopped in front of the mirror. "If your body doesn't die within the next week or so, you are going to cease to exist."   
  
Omi's consciousness withdrew himself from their voices. Deep in his core, he knew it was true. The smothering feeling of ebbing away into nothingness was eating into his soul. In the lack of death, he was trapped without a gate to heaven or hell, if they existed. Even if they didn't, he wouldn't be open to rebirth, or cosmic death. He was trapped without general escape.   
  
/It's true.../  
  
The gifts of life and time were turning on him.  
  
He watched dazedly as his pajamas were peeled off and his face, hair, and limbs were examined. "Hey, now I know why you were wearing shorts. Nice legs." Aria smiled mischievously and adjusted his boxer shorts. "Got one of these too."   
  
/Stop teasing me, Aria./  
  
"You'll get your own body soon, Jack." With a grin, Omi pulled his garments back on. "You never were patient..." he muttered as he took the thermometer out and held it up to the light. "Hrm. 99.9 Not bad." His nose pressed against the mirror. "Boy, are you in there?"   
  
/Do you even remember my name?/  
  
"Ohayoo!" The blonde jumped as Ken burst through the door, with a glass of orange juice in hand. "How're feeling, Omi?"  
  
Omi smiled and handed him the thermometer. "99.9. Just fine... Ken. Thanks." He took the juice and left the room with a nod.  
  
*  
  
"You'll have to tell me more about Kritiker, dear, unless you're planning on keeping your knowledge blocked up for the rest of your existence." Omi muttered to himself as he headed into the basement, to the computer that held mission files and information.   
  
It was strange to be there without actually experiencing the room. Though it was the site of some of the worst television Omi had ever watched, the feel of the secret room was something he missed - needed - to feel like himself, like Tsukiyono Omi. The smell of urgency, the sight of the computers, the couch... everything that formed the habitat of his second life, which had once been abandoned, was in this place. Now he could do nothing but observe it, as someone guilelessly turned him into a traitor.  
  
/I thought Estet was the know-all, be-all, kill-all sort of organization./  
  
"I'm here, aren't I? Don't irritate me."  
  
/Why do I have to tell you?/  
  
He settled into the chair and pushed the start-up and monitor buttons, mumbling during the short wait. The floorboards creaked beneath his foot, which anxiously dug a heel into the old wood. "A soul's memories and knowledge belong only to the soul, and can only be accessed with their keeper's permission and desire. Each being's consciousness is their own. Therefore, I only have knowledge you reveal to me, unless you give me full access to your consciousness."  
  
/... You know, if you keep me talking to myself like that, the others will thnk I'm going off the deep end./  
  
The glass was set down when the screen flashed brightly, asking for the password key to the awaiting terrain of information. "It can't be helped. It's either have a body, or not. And now I've got one. You haven't died yet, so you're going to disappear soon.-- Password?"   
  
Faith. He had to have faith in his friends, and keep them alive. Until they figured it out...  
  
/Persian./  
  
"Persian?" The letters were typed in with unskilled hands.   
  
It was all right to tell, wasn't it? She'd probably be the last to hear his true voice. The entire ordeal had been a year ago, and wouldn't be a threat to the present.   
  
/Persia. He used to be our leader. He was head of the police--/  
  
"Takatori Shuuichi." He smirked. "Of all the luck..."  
  
/What?/  
  
"Takatori Shuuichi. The man who broke away from his brother - that twit Reiji. Fool that he was. Trusting so heavily in Schwarz. Reiji had the brother... with the missing son. The son that was trained to kill...." His words slowed with the realization, and an internet browser opened with a search engine, where he typed "Takatori" in quickly.  
  
/No... It wasn't his son. Reiji had the son that he left for dead. He--/  
  
"Reiji Takatori only had three legitimate children. His two idiot sons, and the girl, Ouka. The one other son that he kept for eleven good years, was the son of his brother. The young boy was raised to be an assassin, in a group... powered by Kritiker. Run by Persia. You're Takatori Mamoru. Shuuichi's Mamoru."  
  
/NO! I'm- I was the son of... I'm not a Takatori. I'm Persia's nephew, nothing more. We are not affiliated with the Takatoris./  
  
"You're not his nephew. You're his son. We administered the tests for Reiji. We arranged the death of your whore mother."  
  
Omi's soul felt the ice around his soul tighten. He was almost glad that he didn't have his body; he wouldn't like to feel his heart stopping.   
  
"What's the matter boy? Didn't you know?" The glass was lifted for another modest sip, and several pictures appeared on the screen, a jumble of captures of the Takatori family.  
  
/It's been over a year. It doesn't matter anymore. It doesn't matter anymore.../  
  
Each picture was enlarged on the screen, names and death dates beneath each. "Ouka was your cousin. You killed your cousins. You hated the wrong man..."  
  
/I did NOT! Reiji Takatori deserved to be hated for everything he did in your organization. It's too bad he didn't cripple Estet any worse while Schwarz was still in his control./  
  
"You murderous child."  
  
/Stop it./  
  
"Killing your own family like that."  
  
/Urusai!/  
  
"And now, you're the only-AAHH!!"  
  
/URUSAI!/  
  
The glass was crushed within his grasp, shards causing infinite cuts on his right hand and frigid liquid - a sudden burning cold - splashed about the rest of his skin. He fell to the floor in surprise, with Aria still reeling from the loss of control.   
  
"What happened?!" Youji rushed in, then cursed. "Shit, kid! What'd you do that for?!" He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, then bent down to wipe the bloodied hand.   
  
"I... I don't know," he glanced up at the computer screen, then sniffled pitifully.   
  
Jade eyes brushed against the enlarged photos, then looked back at the injured boy. "What are you digging up old memories for?"  
  
"I wasn't digging them up. They just..." Omi shook his head, picking at several chunks of porcelain.   
  
With a sigh, the man stood up. "I'll get a broom, and bandage for your hand. Put that mess down, you'll hurt yourself even more. I'll be back." Before leaving, he turned the monitor off.  
  
"Hai..."  
  
He watched Youji leave.  
  
"I could've killed him. Be glad I didn't. If you ever try to do that again, without my consent-"  
  
/What were you expecting from me?/  
  
"Don't provoke me, boy. Killing me once hasn't gotten rid of me, but I doubt the same fate for your friends."  
  
/You'll have trouble proving that statement true, Mikata./  
  
"How are you so sure?" Omi winced as he felt the handkerchief pressed against his slashed right hand. The extremety would need at least one week to heal.  
  
/Despite your faith in my skills, I'm not ambidexterous. It'll take my friends less than a week to figure you out./  
  
"I'd like to see them try."  
  
*  
  
"Youji." Ken tapped the playboy's shoulder with a bouquet. "Delivery."   
  
"Huh? Ok." Youji pulled out of his smoking reverie from behind the counter and took the bouquet. "Thanks." He nodded and headed for the door.  
  
"Did you tell him?"   
  
Youji stopped, holding the door open like an idiot as pedestrians passed. He flashed a smile, then backed into the flower shop. "Tell who what?"  
  
"Him," the brunette gave him a significant look.  
  
"Why would I do something stupid like that?"  
  
"He's been acting strange lately," Ken shrugged as he reached for the watering can on a high shelf. "I mean, he's forgetting to feed Kiki, and he's been avoiding everyone. And that," he nodded to the bouquet in Youji's hand, "is the *ugliest* of Omi's arrangements I've ever seen. And he hasn't reminded you not to smoke in the shop. I figured that..."  
  
"It might have been me, huh?" Youji gave a half-smile. "Not today." A locked door, an open window, and a dart from a pillow, he thought as he nodded good-bye. If it wasn't him, who was it?  
  
*  
  
The short amount of days did pass, to Omi's dislike. Life around the flower shop seemed a bit tenser, and quieter, but none of his colleagues showed an open suspicion of his difference in personality. He hoped silently that they secretly knew. All he had going for his case were his acquiring the use of his left hand, and the fact that he'd stopped adding "-kun" to the end of their names. Youji, at least, had to have noticed it.  
  
The shop's fangirls, to his low expectations, hadn't noticed a single change. After all, it wasn't as if any physical changes had occured, he thought bitterly. But they continued to fawn over his injured hand, until Aria had finally lost control and barked a lecture about using time wisely as a teenager and finding something other than sex and make-up to obsess over. That kept them silent for an entire day. But Aya had been the only one present then, and kept his usual touch of silence during the ordeal.  
  
Even school seemed hopeless, for nobody bothered him when he kept to his laptop during all break periods. A few girls tried to speak with him, but Aria, again, had grown impatient and merely walked away from the stuttering young females.  
  
As the end of his week came near, Omi began to give up hope. Aria hadn't acted upon her plans yet, only researching more and more about Kritiker, and he was beginning to feel the pressure of solitary confinement. If nothing happened soon, he wouldn't be able to stop Estet from whatever they were planning.   
  
But finally, to his great joy, a chance came when oppurtunity, along with a redhead bearing a video-tape came knocking with a mission. The objective? Break into an old museum archive that held information about the Estet ritual that had been attempted a year ago, and steal it before the other executive branch of Estet could do it themselves.   
  
Aria grew curious with Manx's tight-lipped orders. "Why should we go digging up that crap? And why would they wait so long to do it?"   
  
/"Crap"? Where'd you get that?/  
  
"A boy without vision once said it," he muttered back.  
  
Manx turned to Omi, a slight look of surprise in her eyes. "It was believed by the group, and Kritiker that the information was being held somewhere in Europe. Only recently have our sources realized that the riddle left by the three you eliminated a year ago pointed to somewhere here, in Tokyo." She spoke slowly and watched him closely, gauging his reponse. "A year after, a similar planetary alignment is expected - an ideal time to try again."  
  
"It's still not as effective unless it's every 800 years, but that's true." Omi's hopes raised as he felt the auras of his friends twitch curiously. "It's just what I've seen. In research."  
  
"It is all 'crap' though, as you've said it." Manx raised her eyebrows. "The ritual is still a farce of decoration and honor, and nothing effective."  
  
The words, which infuriated Aria to no end, still haunted both her and Omi that night. He found himself waiting in the museum curator's office, hacking away for clues while his teammates were searching various branches of the large building.   
  
His eyes flickered idly from the hanging paintings, to the screen, then back again. "What am I looking for?" Covering the mic of his headset, Aria found that she was forced to ask numerous questions she hadn't thought of beforehand. She wanted very badly to find the ritual information herself, but had no idea how to do the work.  
  
/Clues - anything related to what you were going to do. And keeping the others alive. There - in the left wing - two guards going Youji's way./  
  
He minimized the files window on the laptop screen, then clicked on the left wing footage window. "Oh... um... Youji?"  
  
"What?"  
  
/Balinese./  
  
"Er-Yeah. Balinese. Two people headed your way."  
  
"From where?" Ken asked, waving his hand to indicate his help.  
  
"Um...."  
  
/The hallway behind him, three doors down./  
  
"Hallway behind you. Three doors down." They watched as the guards met up with the older man's wire. One choked to death by hanging, and the other strangled. "Efficient. Very efficient." Aria sounded amused.   
  
"Thanks," Youji looked up at the camera. "I guess."   
  
*  
  
"Remember *Schuldich*, we're here only for the artifact and nothing more. We don't have time to play if we're going to do this right," Crawford stood with the rest of Schwarz outside the Ani Special Museum, examining some notes beneath a street light. "We go in, find the stone, and get out. All right?"  
  
The telepath groaned, jabbing the snickering Japanese boy beside him roughly with his elbow. "Don't even joke about it Crawford. My head still hurts from our last job. Stop laughing!" Nagi calmed his laughter to a violent jerking of shoulders and turned away from the scene to take in the museum's perimeter.   
  
"There'd better be more than two guards this time." Farfello sniffed behind him, arms folded across his chest. as he glared at Schuldich "And I'm not sharing them, either."   
  
Two guards would be more than necessary, Nagi thought to himself as he lifted an eyebrow. The building's architecture consisted of a double barbell shape, indicating three main buildings - all decorated with a pseudo-mix of Greek and Japanese shape. Rows and rows of windows that ran along the connecting corridors gaped at the world like an empty smile, objects glittering through each pane. He could only imagine the paths that ran through the structure's stone-colored walls, which glowed a light silver thanks to the round lantern moon above. It was elaborate but small, and the layers of dust that covered everything were more than obvious. Crawford had noted that the museum hadn't been regularly visited for at least ten years - Estets three executives had intended to visit one year before, but were deterred themselves.   
  
"Don't dawdle - we can't give Estet's other executives a single opportunity. We're here for business." The American folded the notes into his pocket, then turned to Nagi. "Open the door."  
  
With a blink of Nagi's midnight blue eyes, the door popped open.   
  
"Good." Crawford nodded his approval as he walked through the doorway. "You're controlling your power with less physical outlet. Keep it up, Nagi."   
  
Schuldich patted Nagi's head as he passed to follow, mocking Crawford's voice. "Keep it up, Nagi." He shoved the boy backwards before withdrawing his hand.   
  
/What's the matter, Schu? Jealous?/ Nagi caught himself easily and smirked at the redhead.   
  
/I wouldn't have a reason for it./ Schuldich glanced back him slyly, meeting his gaze with thinned emerald eyes. /Besides, Crawford doesn't play favorites; he's already got me. When you reach that certain level of power, there's nothing else to do but watch the world. Keep those big blue eyes open, Bishounen./  
  
The boy nodded, then followed Farfello and Schuldich behind their leader. It was a cheesy museum, at best. Paintings of all the usual "spiritual" symbols, and flowers, and umpteen dots of color everywhere - that meant absolutely nothing. To them, at least. To the former executive branch of Estet, though, this museum was a great favored visiting place. Themes of humanity and all. Nagi shook his head. And now he was on a mission to find information about their stupid ritual. Crap, he thought. Just like it was a year ago - all crap. The *real* art was in about every other museum in the world.  
  
He stopped abruptly behind Farfello, who had paused behind a glass exhibit of ... a donkey. Yeah. "Farf, what's wrong?"   
  
The Irishman looked back at him, then motioned with his elbow at a door, hands ready in the pockets of his vest. "A stray kitten."   
  
"What?" Nagi stepped forward, and peeked into the small crack. He gasped at what he saw - the blonde-haired chump from one year ago, that somehow managed to live. "No way... Wait, if he's alive - and he looks very alive and hacking, though injured - then his team must be here." Looking back at Farfello, he flicked some hair out of his face. "Do you think they're here for the same reason?"   
  
"I wouldn't put it past them, the team booming with intelligence." Farfello quirked an eyebrow as he said this. "If we take him out-"  
  
"-We'll have an advantage. Let me do it, Farf."  
  
Farfello shrugged. "It's your fight to finish. Tell Schuldich what you're doing. I'll join up with Crawford in case his team finds us before you're done."   
  
"All right." Nagi grinned as his teammate silently handed him a knife (just in case). "Have fun!"   
  
"You first." Farfello nodded as he left.   
  
As he slipped through the doorway, floating with the knife and the upper hand, Nagi smiled. He'd take the screwed-up assassin completely by surprise, with no help around. Surely, this time, he'd win. No blood but his opponent's, he thought maliciously.   
  
/Care to share, Bishounen?/  
  
/Sorry, Schu. This one's mine./  
  
When he'd finally come close enough to see the security camera images on the glowing laptop screen, he drenched the room in light.  
  
"Boo." 


	4. Chapter 3: Like the Sun

--  
  
~ 3 ~ Like the Sun  
  
"It's a do or die situation..."  
- Pat Benatar, Invincible  
  
--  
  
The museum contained no ordinary collection. Owned by Estet, filled by Estet, guarded by Estetian guards. All who had been disposed of very quickly. Not that there was much to guard, other than the artifact.  
  
Even in the moonlight, the building proved its wasted confidence to Ken. As he took each step, he swung his gaze about noting that each room consisted of white walls, blue marble floors, and endless rows of muted light panels, and created a pretentious water-world atmosphere. Stretched out before him, the floor was a sea frozen in wild tantrum, murmuring roughly with each step; the walls had stolen clouds and movement from the sky. Exhibits were spotted islands among the perfect scenes, yet each setting seemed more alive than its treasure. Glass animals filled the connecting corridors, joined by elaborate paintings of...  
  
/Naked people... More naked people... Piles of naked people... Frogs./   
  
Ken stopped in the corridor to peer closely at the odd painting, his gloved hand reaching up to scratch his chin. After several seconds, he blinked. "Frogs?" He furrowed his brow, squinting at the spurts of aqua and carrot orange around the somewhat oblong veridian shapes on the canvas.  
  
"Orgy."  
  
"What?!-Ugh! Youji! You scared the shit out of m-"  
  
"SHHHHH!!" Youji waves his hand for silence, motioning to the hand on his headset mic, then beckoning for the brunette to step into the shadows with him. "I need to talk to you," the lanky man said gravely. "Both of you. By the way, it certainly was kind of you to grace all of us with your presence tonight, Abyssinian."  
  
It took a few seconds for Ken to make out Aya's shadow behind the glass... giraffe. The redhead said nothing. Ken regarded the defense that flashed against his cool exterior and smiled wanly, eyeing Aya's ear, shy of an earring. It wasn't really missing, just back with its owner.   
  
But Ken had missed Aya; since their return one month before, Weiß as a whole didn't seem to matter as much. Ken could count the number of days Aya had spent *not* visiting his sister on both his hands.   
  
Taking a moment to blow off the mission's and Youji's seriousness, the brunette held his gaze with Aya's, making a mental note to ask how she'd accepted the dark side of her brother's devotion as he kept his lips perked up. Aya always (silently, if not vocally) appreciated the unnecessary worry that Ken usually showered upon him.  
  
"Yo. You in there?" Youji waved his hand for attention.  
  
"Hai." As he remembered himself, Ken nodded and looked nervously at the security camera, inching away from it's watch as his hand slipped over his own mic. "What do you want to talk about?"  
  
"Omi." Aya whispered.   
  
Youji laughed sarcastically. "No, that is *not* Omi. It may be his smile, but it isn't him."  
  
"I know he's been sick and everything - his fever's still bothering him - but," Ken shook his head. "I don't know. If it isn't-- What do you think is wrong with him?"   
  
"I have no clue. If anything, it's creeping the hell out of me. Especially when he looks at me with that strange expression in his eyes. It's like he's trying so hard to see me, sometimes..." Youji frowned, unable to compress the feeling into words.  
  
"Yeah, I know what you mean," Ken agreed. "He was introducing me to a friend of his from school, and he forgot my name."  
  
"... It's like he's waiting to do something." Aya offered, eyeing the shifting security camera.   
  
"What?"  
  
"Lately he's grown more and more... impatient. He speaks differently, and forgets to do things. Forgets himself," the redhead mused aloud. "He screamed at the girls. He never screams at them."   
  
"Ha," Youji ran a gloved hand through his hair, rubbing the heel of his palm on his temple. "It's not him."  
  
"So who did this to him? What did this to him? How do we *fix* him?" Ken looked lost, searching his two elders for answer, and finding none. "This is frustrating! We didn't raise him, but he grew up with us, and we don't know what's wrong with him! It's been a year since, well, everything..."  
  
Aya placed caught his arm before he could continue. "We'll find out. After this mission. We'll corner him and see what he does--"  
  
They were interrupted by a shout in their headsets. "Minna! Schwarz is--" the rest of the message was filled with static.   
  
"Bombay?" Ken spoke into his mic. "Omi!" He looked up at Youji and Aya. "Schwarz?"  
  
Youji closed his eyes, wishing it all to go away. They'd all had a year of relative peace and it was degrading as if there were some expiration stamp on it.  
  
"Did someone call?" A nasal voice broke into the comm line as the lights of the corridor flicked on, panel by panel. Crawford and Schuldich, slowly illuminated by tired lemon yellow light, phased from the darkness. "I can't say we're very happy to see you," Schuldich stepped forward casually with his arms crossed, "And neither you the same. But come on, I'm sure you missed us."   
  
None of them had to say it. All three Weiß members standing there shared the same thought, which Youji vocalized.   
  
"Fuck."  
  
Ken clenched his fists, looking irritated as his claws were released. "You guys plan this stuff, don't you?!"  
  
*  
  
Suddenly, Omi found himself in front of the laptop, watching three Schwarz members move across the security views as the lights of the curator's office turned on. One, Farfello, was alone. The other two were walking down a long corridor.   
  
He felt himself slip back into control; Aria seemed to have distanced herself. The first sensation that greeted him was the tight bandage on his hand. Another was the chill that told him an enemy was in the room.  
  
/Your turn./ She bid him well before leaving him alone.  
  
"Boo."   
  
The darts were in his hand fast enough, and he threw them fast enough, but he realized he had no chance with his injury and having Nagi as his opponent. The sound of his projectiles clattering to the floor made his heart sink. He realized quickly why Aria had left him.   
  
Omi gasped as he slammed backwards into a wall, the feeling of pain slamming into his consciousness. "Minna! Schwarz is--" The headset was thrown across the room. He strained his eyes to see his friends met up with their old enemies on the laptop screen.  
  
"Didn't expect me, did you?" Nagi commented.   
  
"I thought... you were dead." Omi said, wincing with every ounce of growing pressure.   
  
"Huh," the telekinetic shrugged, "Sorry."  
  
Feeling his insides being crushed, Omi could only respond with a cough as blood burst out of his mouth. This, he remembered all to well from the last year's fight. Only, he'd probably had more chance of surviving the fight in the collapsing building.  
  
The slight smirk on Nagi's face began to fade as his hands flew outward for support. "What the..." He looked down to see a dart piercing his chest. "H.. how..." He stumbled forward and landed on all fours.   
  
Omi groaned from his position against the wall. Something was wrong. The rattling surges of pain in his body nearly knocked him out as he watched Nagi struggle to breathe, the telekinetic's hold slowly diminishing. Why hadn't the fight ended sooner? It was obvious that Nagi had the advantage, by nature he was more powerful, and would've finished him off in seconds. Either that or Aria, in his body, should have killed Nagi in seconds. Unless--  
  
She wasn't powerful enough.  
  
"Iya da..." He slid down a few inches as Nagi's power slipped, then whimpered as the pressure increased again.  
  
The silence that should've been Aria's response made him want to scream in frustration. Always, he thought bitterly, always too trusting. He truly hadn't expected this.  
  
"Nagi..." He looked into the boy's eyes with the sincerest look of regret, choking his words out as loudly as he could. "Run. Run, now. If you can still use your powers, leave this place. I mean this, for your sake. Run away." His mind reeled with distress, when the boy refused to answer, still trying to regain his breath. "Please," he felt his throat tighten as a single tear streamed down his cheek. Fear trickled out of him like the light of newly dawned truth. "I'm sorry."  
  
This was the objective. Aria's plan. They took him because he was the weakest - sick with the flu. His purpose was to go on a mission - this mission - and fight Schwarz. Fight Nagi. And gain his force. Gain a powerhouse for Estet's purpose, who would probably later be used to destroy both teams. From there...  
  
How could he have been so stupid?  
  
"I don't think so." Having caught his breath, Nagi shook his head in anger. "You can't trick me. You're going down, Weiß. This is your final night."  
  
"You have to believe me! It's E--" Omi shook his head, feeling the pain of his body slip away as Aria took it back. He fell from the wall, then was slammed into the floor, smothered by intensifying pressure.  
  
/No.../  
  
One boy, one dart, one slip. He'd simplified the once elaborate vendetta.  
  
*  
  
The artifact lay pleasantly bathed in moonlight. It looked very unobtrusive and harmless by itself, sitting face-up within the confines of its glass case. Farfello shivered slightly, his muscles jerking from the slight cold that circulated from the vents, as well as the eerie quiet of the museum. He'd passed the inane glass animals and non-objective paintings with a heavy smirk on his lips, but this part of the building was almost bare. All that awaited his hunter's gaze was this block of stone, sitting in the middle of a darkened room.   
  
The writing on the stone was barely discernable, he mused as he stepped closer to the altered podium. Nearly completely eroded, the marble-like properties of its face would prove hellish for any hopeful translators.   
  
It called to him, in silence.  
  
Not the writing or carved design, but the stone itself. This was the mysterious powerful object that Crawford had decided he should obtain; a simple stone, engraved with blasphemy and unfitting desires.  
  
Farfello put more weight into each footstep, listening to the echo each made in the empty space around him. Was he afraid? Hardly. The slab seemed to welcome his approaching warmth as it drank of the moonlight streaming through the windows.  
  
Farfello reached out to extract the glass casing, more careful than he'd been for anything before in his life. The glass, with his solid though slight touch, caused the panes to cower animatedly then collapse without warning. He watched dejectedly as each sheet shattered against the floor around him, waiting for an alarm to sound. His hand wavered apprehensively above the artifact, prepared to grab and run.   
  
No sound came. As he searched his surroundings for any stirring, he found none. Weiß had already disabled the security systems, to his luck. Farfello smiled as he slipped his fingers beneath the cold stone, bouncing it tentatively, expecting some sort of extravagant feeling to emit from obtaining it.   
  
Silence, again.  
  
With a shrug, he cradled the flat block and headed for the exit, whistling to himself.  
  
*  
  
Aya charged Crawford, unleashing the might of his katana wordlessly. "Siberian, go find the artifact!" Ken nodded, throwing his headset across the floor after listening to the deafening static, as he jumped past Crawford.   
  
"It won't help," the clairvoyant smirked as he effortless dodged Aya's weapon. "He won't find it."  
  
Aya's eyes narrowed, and he stepped back, breathing heavily. "We'll try anyway. It's why we're all alive, ne? Always to fight evil like you."  
  
Youji eyed the confident telepath before him, a line of silver pulled taut from his watch. "Where are your friends?"  
  
"Farfello? He's busy." Schuldich squinted, peering closely and examining Youji's thoughts. "Our fourth is attacking yours. Don't worry, it'll be quick and painless... I think." He dodged as wire opened up before him, then caught Youji's wrist in his hand, slamming him against a nearby wall and pinning him there, an arm pressed conveniently against the Weiß assassin's airway.   
  
"Fucking bastard-"  
  
"The kitten's in trouble, and it's bothering you." Schuldich smirked, watching Youji struggle. "I'm sorry I never noticed it before - that certainly would've been fun to play with." He watched amusedly as Youji's eyes flared with anger then opened his mouth to whisper more irking comments, interrupted by a flailing thought.  
  
/Schuldich... I think I'm dying./  
  
The cry was Nagi. A desperate Nagi.  
  
"WHA-Agh! Scheiße!" Youji had wrenched out of his hold and decked him across the face. Schuldich tumbled backward, holding his open jaw as he tried to remedy both situations. He hoped that he heard Nagi wrong.  
  
/You've been hit?! You're telekinetic. That's *not* possible-/  
  
/It's cold, I can barely feel anything. Schuldich, is this what it's like to die?/  
  
Schuldich was barely evading Youji's punches. "Dammit!" Nagi was untouchable - essentially the most powerful person in Schwarz. It took a lot to remind Schuldich sometimes, but the boy was as damned close to omnipotent as anyone could get. If problems arose, Nagi could knock them down - figuratively and literally. And he certainly wasn't one to get desperate, at all.   
  
It gave him a bad feeling.  
  
But, the future was Crawford's department. Looking up, his eyes met Youji's gaze. The assassin seemed to know something was wrong.   
  
/Crawford, Nagi's-/  
  
/He'll survive. Farfello found the artifact. Let's go./ Crawford evaded a katana swipe and grabbed Aya's wrist, hauling him forward as he slammed a fist into the redhead's face. Aya tumbled forward, landing on all fours as Crawford withdrew.  
  
"We're leaving?" Schuldich noted the flash of black that took off, in the direction of the secluded fight, fighting the urge to follow. He wanted so badly to see if it was true - if Nagi had fallen.   
  
/Don't we need Nagi?/  
  
/Are you saying that you're worried about him?-/  
  
"-Because it doesn't matter anymore, we're done here." Crawford grabbed his arm and they turned to the remaining assassin, whose eyes fluttered with muddled rage. "Goodbye, Weiß. Consider yourself lucky, to have survived again."   
  
/Of course not./ Schuldich replied. Worried? Him? Why would he be worried?  
  
Aya's gaze caught him off-guard, clear and exuding vicious threat. His sister was awake, Schuldich realized. With this life to guard, the assassin Abyssinian had much more to guard. And his conviction was more defined with hatred.  
  
Schuldich almost forgot to breathe, seeing the change in his enemy. When he managed to swallow through a dry throat, he shook his head and observed Crawford's assuredness for comfort. It would be ok, Brad's confidence comforted him.  
  
After all, they'd survive.  
  
*  
  
"Bombay..." a snarl escaped the youth's throat and he continued to press the blonde's body against the floor. "If I'm going, I'm taking you with me." Each word was accentuated with the crunch of bone.  
  
"I had faith in you when I first voted you in. You didn't let me down, Nagi." Omi grunted in pain, and part of the floor gave way, causing a deep imprint of his body in the cold stone.   
  
Nagi paused to stare at the blonde curiously. "What?"  
  
"David, do it NOW!" He cried out.  
  
"David?"  
  
/How are you fitting into Schwarz now, boy?/  
  
"K'so!" Nagi shook his head. "No... We killed you..." Midnight blue eyes looked up in bewilderment, finally seeing the true pain behind Omi's cerulean eyes. "They *killed* you...." His voice cracked. Then he realized that the room had gotten colder.  
  
/I chose you. I sheltered you. I put you where you needed to be./  
  
The telekinetic fell forward, breathing erratically, his face pressed against the floor. Sweat dripped down his cheeks as he pressed his forehead down, trying to calm a dizzy spell. Something seemed to have him caught by the neck and wrists as a iciness seeped into the trunk of his body. Omi watched from the floor, eyes still glued to Nagi. "It's truly begun, now."   
  
/Run, Nagi. Fight back...You have to fight back./  
  
"Schuldich..." Nagi choked. He closed his eyes in pain, as his body relaxed.  
  
/Kami-sama, what have I done?.../  
  
"He can't hear you anymore," Omi's voice wavered as his lips pulled into a smile. "You've grown considerably, my Prodigy..."  
  
"OMI!" Youji burst into the room, stopping just before Nagi's body. He looked to the younger assassin. "You... You beat him?" He stepped over the small, unmoving body and helped Omi sit up. "Are you ok?"  
  
After looking up in surprise, Omi replied. "I'm fine," he said, looking irritated. "I can get up myself."  
  
"Omi..." He took Omi up into his arms and held him tightly.  
  
The boy fidgeted. "Youji, I said I'm fine," his voice was muffled, face pressed against the other man's chest. A strong hand flew to the nape of Omi's neck, and another encircled his waist. "Youji-stop! What are you doing?"  
  
/I don't... is he.../  
  
The man leaned closely to his ear. "Omi, do you hear me?"   
  
/Youji-kun!! NO-Dame! Get away from me!/  
  
"Let go of me!"  
  
"Omi, I know you're in there. I know you can hear me. I know this isn't you..."  
  
The boy stopped struggling then, both in surprise and calculating thought.   
  
"I don't know if this will help. I don't know if this will get through to you. I just want you to know this one thing..."  
  
/Masaka.../  
  
"Yo-" His face was pressed deeper into the man's chest.   
  
"I love you." 


	5. Chapter 4: Bound

--  
  
~ 4 ~ Bound  
  
"We will be invincible..."  
- Pat Benatar, Invincible  
  
--  
  
It was unfair. Completely unfair.  
  
Omi tried very hard to will himself back into place, back into his own physical form, but failed. He felt like he was spinning, but he wasn't dizzy, he felt his cheeks grow warm, but he couldn't touch them. It was as if a gong had sounded and it called specifically to him; the reverberations were hindering his train of thoughts. This was a buzz he wasn't supposed to feel.  
  
Then he remembered - Nagi. The world he had lost was spinning too quickly.  
  
There was nothing more he wanted, than to cry right then. Sure, it was unmanly, and he could probably take anything on after his experiences, but this... this was a specific example of the complete inaccuracies and idiocies of men.   
  
Youji had just proclaimed his love.   
  
Omi felt himself twitching with anxiety as he analyzed the situation. Here, obviously, Youji was trying to cause such an amount of surprise that would give him a chance to break through. He *had* been a private eye, he had to have guessed something was wrong before. And it was working - all too well.   
  
This was something he wished would happen, in the back of his mind, for so long. So many times he'd caught himself staring at Youji, struck with awe and delight. So many times, he'd hated the cigarette smoke that would waft into the shop around this slacker, and cursed his inability to complete a single task without arranging at least one date within the hour. Yet, he had also been filled with a giddy ambivalence, warped with weak-willed desire and just as apprehensive.  
  
And now... finally... his wish came true.  
  
Untrue.  
  
He didn't know what to think.  
  
It made him feel, to his surprise. A weight leaden in his heart, like unrequited love - though not as fickle - a slow pain that pulsated with cognizance. Slowly, he realized that he was gaining control of his body. Pain was beginning to seep into his being, and he *had* limbs that were numb and throbbing. Youji's ploy had worked.   
  
All to save the idiot who just opened Estet's door to the world.   
  
His numb body leaked blood in several places, his heart wept, and his stomach turned into itself.   
  
Guilt, love, and regret. It made him feel sick.  
  
*  
  
Ken was in pain. He was vaguely aware of that, but that's all he could comprehend, other than the fact that he was laying uncomfortably on the floor. Without moving (because he felt he'd forgotten how to do that) he discerned that the pulsating pain originated from the back of his head.   
  
/Artifact. Get the artifact./   
  
He almost said it to himself, but his lips couldn't form the words. Recalling his objective, he plunged back into his memory to remember being attacked by a pale figure wielding a very large stone. With hazed horror, he realized it was his enemy with the artifact. It couldn't have been anyone but Farfello.   
  
/Aw, crap.../  
  
"Hmph. That was easy." Farfello blinked down at Ken's stilled body, wiping blood off of the artifact with his hand. He licked his fingers clean as he nudged the brunette with his toe. "You surprised me - I didn't expect any of you to live through our fight. When I found the young one, I knew the rest of you couldn't be far. He is the most fragile, after all."  
  
/Omi? Are you talking about Omi??... I swear, if you.../  
  
"I don't have time to kill you right now, and I lent my favorite knife to Nagi. He probably finished the kitten off. We'll finish our own fight later, Weiß," Farfello parted with a nod, striding out of the exit door to meet his waiting teammates.   
  
Finally, in worry for Omi, Ken managed to open his eyes. Through the haze of pain that greeted him, he squinted and realized that he was watching Schuldich and Crawford. The two elder members seemed to be in disagreement. Nagi was nowhere to be seen.   
  
"Omi..." Ken gasped and shut his eyes as the sound of his own voice strained his ears and the world began to spin. When he finally caught his breath, he realized that as much as he wanted to he couldn't do a thing for Omi, but if he could just get closer, he could hear what was going on between the other Schwarz members. Pulling himself along on his elbows, he inched closer to the open door.   
  
*  
  
Omi's entire body stiffened for a moment, then jolted as his senses met with pain. "Y... Youji-kun!" Omi gasped out. Youji grunted as the smaller form went limp in his arms, with small hands grasping the front of his jacket. He fell with Omi, catching and supporting him carefully when as the boy's legs buckled. "Ah.. Itai..." Omi looked down at his bandaged hand, then looked back up to Youji.  
  
Youji pulled away and looked into the youth's imploring eyes, the sparkle of life finally returned to his cerulean blue eyes. Tear-filled eyes. "You don't really mean-" Omi's breathing was stilted as he took in full breaths of air, taking in all he couldn't feel before.  
  
Youji replied with silence, offering only a solemn intent in his gaze as he moved a hand to cup the doubtful face. Sincerity tinged his own emerald eyes, a quality even the truest playboy could not duplicate.  
  
"Youji-kun..." Omi turned away, disgusted with himself and unable to look at his friend. "No. It's too late. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."   
  
"Sorry? What the hell for?" Youji frowned, wiping away a tear. Was this Omi? Had he actually gotten through? He expected Omi to be happy to return... The boy rejected his touch, flinching and pushing Youji's hand away with his own hand. It was the same hand that had crushed a mug earlier in the week, still bandaged and tender. "Omi," Youji said, probing the dressings with his fingers, "This was you, wasn't it?"  
  
"I wanted to stop them. I thought tonight, we could. I didn't know. They're too powerful now. There's only one way to stop them, Youji-kun.." Omi began to tremble.  
  
"You need to stop caring about me. You need to let go of me. Ken-kun, and Aya-kun need to forget me as well."  
  
"Omi, what are you saying?" Suicide? Youji never knew Omi to be hopeless.   
  
The boy embraced him, resting his chin on the taller man's shoulder as he spoke. "They're too powerful now. And it's my fault. I won't hurt if you kill me - you have to kill me. I can't feel anything when they're in power. -- Soon, I won't feel at all." It hurt his heart, just wanting to stay where he was in Youji's arms. "I don't have the time -- I just wanted to say..."  
  
Omi paused, shivering as he pulled away from the hug. Then he gasped and raised his head, pushing Youji away. "Youji-kun!"   
  
Youji caught himself as he was forced backwards, and watched as Omi dodged a knife that was flew on its own - previously aimed for his own back. He looked down quickly at Nagi, and realized that the boy was fighting his own inward struggle as his eyes fluttered. So, Omi's possesser had the power of telekinesis.   
  
"No!" Omi sobbed, hugging his knees. "I won't do it! I CAN'T DO IT!-- I love--" He gripped the sides of his head, trying somehow to get the entity out. "Get out of me--"  
  
Youji felt his jaw drop. "Omi, you-"  
  
"Youji-kun..." Omi looked up at him, shaking his head awkwardly.   
  
/Nigete./ [1]  
  
Youji watched carefully as Omi's tears stopped, his eyes widening slightly. With a quick glance he realized the knife was nowhere to be seen. Then he heard the whisper, the one audible threat he hoped he'd never hear from Omi's lips. Omi leaped up quickly, seemingly recovered, and revealed the blade within his hand.   
  
"Shi-ne."  
  
*  
  
Ken watched with surprise as Crawford and Schuldich clashed. He didn't think that they might ever do that. Schwarz was just the group of evil-doers he and his teammates couldn't be rid of. It was almost comforting to see them face off, almost human. But still it was very disturbing to think of what they had almost achieved on the eve of this anniversary.  
  
"No wait!" Schuldich pulled his arm away, glaring at Crawford, who continued walking and glared back at him. "This doesn't make sense. Nagi can't--"  
  
"He's not going to die," Crawford replied. "I'm sure of it. I've had a vision of his survival."   
  
"I think he'd know when he was dying," with a twinge of urgency, Schuldich recalled the desperation in Nagi's thoughts, "*I* felt like he was dying. That's hard to fake or imagine." He cleared his throat, almost flinching at a childhood memory that glimmered briefly.   
  
"Whatever semblence of fear you had pertaining to Nagi is irrelevant," Crawford shook his head dismissively, "And I think I'd know if he were going to survive."  
  
"You're not hearing me," Schuldich replied, saying each word slowly, "This *doesn't* happen. It's never happened. *Why* is it happening now?"  
  
"There's a first for everything." Crawford shrugged.  
  
"Look, I know you're our 'uber-leader' and all, and I've never doubted you, but this just doesn't feel right," Schuldich rubbed his temples and closed his eyes as if he were in pain. "We need him, you and I both realize that. I can handle people's minds, but we'll depend more on him than we want to. We need the strength that he has to take care of physical problems. I don't want to lose that and compromise our future."   
  
Finally, it seemed like Crawford was beginning to understand Schuldich's behavior. "...What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing, my head's just starting to really bother me."  
  
"No, I mean I've never seen you so doubtful before," Crawford paused to look examine Schuldich's face, his glasses reflecting a passing glare as his eyes pried at the German's eyes. "Hm," he smirked. "I think you're letting your emotions get to you."  
  
Then the night seemed to stop. Ken felt himself holding his breath against the tension, though his sight still struggled through haze and fog. Two small flies caught his eye, having appeared among the stars; he watched them pirouette towards a bush and settle among the leaves, wings glistening like the brush in the moonlight. The night's air remained rigid, held fast against his body and refusing to budge. Even Farfello had slowed his steps to silence, observing his teammates carefully.   
  
"What did you just say?" Schuldich asked calmly.   
  
"Exactly what you heard," Crawford retorted, resting his index finger on the bridge of his glasses after nudging them upward. His eyes, a thoughtful hazel, glanced downward for a moment then met again with Schuldich's stunned emerald gaze. "And don't even try it - I'll dodge."   
  
"I'm fast." Schuldich bit back. "And you don't know everything. I wasn't really going to punch you." Ken hadn't noticed Schuldich's clenching fists until Crawford had acknowledged them. He wasn't sure he'd seen the telepath this angry before; this anger was of rarity, spawned by personal despair rather than cynicism or social provocation. With each passing second Schuldich was growing more bewildered, his temper flaring as a result. It was something his omniscience didn't know how to handle.  
  
Emotions, Ken mused. He couldn't imagine the reality for this particular Schwarz member.   
  
"Where's Nagi?" Farfello interrupted, staying a short distance away from the pair. "Is he still-"  
  
"We're leaving Nagi here. He'll return to us later," Crawford held his hand out for the artifact. "Was it hard to find?"  
  
"No." Farfello relinquished possession of the stone, backing away as Crawford noticed and large crack in the artifact's face.  
  
"What's this?"  
  
"A souvenir from Weiß."   
  
Crawford nodded, then turned to leave. "Let's go."  
  
Schuldich looked at Farfello, almost daring him to go first. "We're leaving Nagi." He'd begun to slouch down, fists jammed into his pockets like a juvenile hoodlum. The look on his face seemed young, Ken realized, and his voice hadn't left the low, calm tone characterized by his newfound anger.   
  
Farfello nodded, then started after their leader. "He'll come back - he has to return my knife."  
  
As Ken watched Schuldich scan the area, rubbing the back of his head gingerly, Ken pulled himself back into the building and leaned against the door. "Out of sight, out of mind," he assured himself. He peeked out again to see that all three had departed, catching the slouch of Schuldich's jacket in the moonlight.   
  
"Nagi, huh?" He didn't know what to do with the information; he looked into the twilight's darkness and knew he wouldn't receive a reply. The flies had rejoined the stars, puzzling his eyes as their wings twinkled still. Night smelled good, his nose told him as the air seemed able to move again; it smelled like peace. Like life, cut so flawlessly and perfectly that it numbed your nose because you'd pierced the very heart of its spice.   
  
"To each his own," Ken whispered into the night, inhaling deeply what part of night he rarely managed to enjoy for himself. "Mission failed, sorry guys." Then he pushed himself up from the floor, and stumbled to find his own teammates.  
  
*  
  
Youji closed his eyes and pulled his own fists outward as Omi came at him. He waited to feel the blade in his gut; nothing happened. When he opened his eyes, he found the wire looped around his fingers had come to his aide. His arms shook as he unwillingly tugged the wires, securing their hold. The knife fell to the floor.  
  
He'd been expecting the change, having learned from his experience with Neu. Omi's body was bound - his wrists secured by one tugging hand, his throat caught in the wires of the other. Though Youji realized it was necessary for his own sake, he couldn't stand the sight of it.   
  
/Just like her.../  
  
Omi's consciousness regarded the remembrance flashing in Youji's eyes. Too close. It had been too close to Youji's death at his hands. His hold flickered for small bites of time as Aria struggled in his place.  
  
"Who the _fuck_ are you?" Youji's smooth voice hardened with each word, the last touching in an animalistic growl. He was on the verge of killing Omi, but he felt that his arms couldn't carry out the act. What else was there to do?  
  
"I_can't_breathe, idiot." Omi choked out.   
  
"That's the point." Youji's eyes thinned, assessing objectively the tautness of his wire. He relaxed a bit, offering one centimeter of slack. He couldn't help to feel some sympathy as he watched blood make trails along Omi's legs.   
  
"Well, aren't you mad?" Omi smirked when his airway opened up a bit. "Hold onto that passion, because I'm something you can't defeat more than once."  
  
"Really?" Youji lowered his head to whisper into Omi's ear. "You seem to be in a precarious position as I see it. I may feel the urge to let you live, if you tell me who you are."  
  
"Won't you have to?" Omi choked out, pressing his cheek to Youij's lips. "I doubt you have the strength to kill someone you *just* professed your love to."  
  
Youji paused, then tugged harder, forcing a cry out from Omi's throat as he pulled his face away. "He gave me permission to kill him - you. I think I'll give him the one thing he asked for."   
  
"Even if he'll feel it?"   
  
"He won't."  
  
"Won't he?" Omi's eyes challenged him. "When I decide that I can't take anymore and relinquish control, won't it hurt for the few seconds that he feels the wire close in around his throat, for the few seconds that he sees the determined hate in your eyes? Won't it hurt for him to die by your hand?"  
  
The wires remained frozen in time, as their puppeteer fought indecision.  
  
Conviction - Omi's voice was laced with his usual assured tone. This tone was always right. Youji knew in his heart that he couldn't deny it.   
  
/Youji-kun! NO! Damn you, stop torturing him!/ The last thing Omi needed was for Youji to feel guilty for him. Hadn't he heard? The entire ordeal was his own fault!  
  
"As soon as I'm gone - He'll feel it," Omi's words tumbled into a threatening whisper, "I guarantee you."  
  
/No! Please!... Just kill me.../  
  
This was where the difference lay, Youji realized. Asuka, when acting as Neu, had put all of her heart into everything she did - for the love of Masafumi Takatori. Omi was trapped in his body, possessed by something that acted completely against his will; he was still Omi. Neu had died as a true enemy of Weiß and humanity. If Omi died, he would die as an innocent.   
  
It was Youji's turn to feel sick. Necessity versus emotion, the struggle was pulling him in all directions. It was imperative that he smother this flame before it grew. But he couldn't forget that Omi was still in there. Alive. With a smile he wanted so badly to see again.  
  
/I'm sorry Omi, I can't./  
  
Webs of silver went slack. "Shimatta." Youji closed his eyes, thankful that neither Ken nor Aya were present to watch his pathetic weakness "Who are you?" The gravel in his voice melted into a harsh, urgent whisper. Then somehow, he knew. There was something to be said of Weiß' enemies, and not many were intelligent enough to pull off what had just actually occured. Desperation seeped through him like grease through paper, as he hoped to whatever god he had that he was wrong.  
  
/Youji.../  
  
Omi shrugged the wires from his body with a sound of relief. "Considering that we've met before, it's funny you should ask." After pondering his response, he reached out with both hands and pulled Youji's face to meet his own. "I am - or, was - Aria Mikata, first executive branch of Estet," he smiled, cerulean eyes glowing all too happily. "Yoroshiku."  
  
*  
  
The room, to Nagi, seemed too dark for comfort. He felt smothered by something, a very cold something that seemed to hold him. It wouldn't let go.  
  
He recognized what surrounded him - the four white walls, the cold floor beneath his body, the now two Weiß members separated by a cold barrier - but he wasn't seeing them through his eyes. The numbness that had set in with the dart's poison, was beginning to fade into a worse sense of numbness. The incessant prickling he'd felt before had completely stopped and he couldn't move.  
  
Nagi knew the body wasn't his anymore.  
  
/Get out of me./ Calling to Schuldich didn't work, and he doubted anyone else would hear his cries. The other trapped Weiß member was too occupied at the moment.   
  
/Boy, do you forget who you're speaking with?/  
  
/And do you forget that you're dead? Get out of me now, old man. And if you were so damned powerful, why the hell do you need me?/ Nagi never cared for the "Estet elders," as Brad had referred to them once. Actually, none of Schwarz ever did - they only had to pretend to be subservient before they had their chance to get rid of the three dependent executives. He hated them with a desire that helped him improve his powers throughout his earlier years as their prodigy.  
  
/I'm afraid it's too late, Naoe./  
  
/It's never too late to kill an old shit like you. I have a friend who's done it before/  
  
/I'm afraid others *have* tried. But none had your powers, boy. You would have done yourself a favor in informing us about your condition earlier./  
  
/These powers are MINE. You can't steal them, even if you have my body./ The thought of hosting one of them revolted Nagi; his body was one of the few things he'd managed to preserve from them. It was one of the few things he truly owned in the world.  
  
/On the contrary boy, they are very much a part of your body. And in having your body, my powers will be magnified./  
  
/My team will come for me/ Nagi countered.  
  
/They've already given up on you. You were the expendable./  
  
The comment stung, mostly because Crawford had said it once before to young, inexperienced Nagi. He remembered how much it hurt to go through the trials of Schwarz, but also the unpredictability of his teammates. /Nothing is certain with them. And you don't know everything./  
  
/Is this how you three gained power? By using others' bodies? Your ritual wasn't the only thing full of crap./  
  
/Such language, Nagi. Thankfully Aria's not here, or she'd have a fit./  
  
/I wouldn't care about her if she *was* here. You're senile and dependent on others. Give it up, Gramps. The future isn't yours for the taking./  
  
/You're right. It's yours. And I shall see it through with you./  
  
/GET OUT!/ Nagi felt a jolt of panic when his body moved without his control.   
  
/Settle down - I'm the one who has the authority now. My name is Pulmin, by the way. David Pulmin. Don't worry, you'll get used to it./  
  
*  
  
"Balinese," Aya's voice erupted from the doorway, "Have you seen Siberian?"  
  
Omi turned around in surprise and raised his hand, sending the knife flying towards Aya. The redhead's eyes widened, and he dodged the attack, apprehensively unsheathing his katana to fight. "What's going on?!"  
  
"You!" Omi growled. "You're the one who killed Jack..."  
  
Aya furrowed his brow, then looked to Youji, who shook his head silently. Youji held his watch up to indicate his wire, and mouthed for him to "run, now." Aya narrowed his eyes, then nodded as the compartment in Youji's watch opened.  
  
The wire flew almost wildly, in a large pattern designed to encircle their target. An invisible force roared through the office, and Aya was caught from his stride, slammed against the walls.  
  
"Bakayarou," Omi smirked. "I've never said it, but it's my favorite Japanese word."  
  
"K'so." Youji backed away as his wire lashed back to him and watched as Aya fell to the floor like a broken doll, his katana clattering loudly.   
  
"Uh-uh. Too late." Omi's eyes thinned in anger as he turned to face Youji, who winced as he was slammed backwards into another wall "You love him, huh? Sad story, but you've irritated me." The pressure increased.  
  
"Omi! Omi, I know you're in there, you have to hold on. You have to-" Youji put a hand to his chest as a pain throbbed. He grunted, then collapsed, barely conscious. "I'm sorry, I couldn't...."  
  
"I would have given you a chance. But it's too late now. All of you will die." Omi sauntered to Youji's fallen form, bending closely over him and brushing hair away to whisper into his ear. "He weeps for you. You'll have to tell me about Asuka the next time we fight." Omi's lips dipped down for a chaste kiss on the cheek, next to his ear. A wet tongue slipped out to tease his earlobe. "But don't die too soon... We've got one hell of a show planned."  
  
With one last gasp, Youji's consciousness was stolen away into darkness.  
  
"There, that wasn't so bad." Omi said, nodding to himself as he dusted his hands off.   
  
Though all of Aria's adversaries in the room were down, her success was not followed by silence, for a gasp was choked out. "...A... Aria?" Nagi sat up dazedly, rubbing the sore spot on his torso.   
  
"Da...David!" Omi ran to hug him, holding his body tightly. "Oh finally! Now we both have bodies."  
  
"It's Nagi, isn't it?" He smiled and placed a comforting hand on his head. "We have new lives now. More than enough power. All we need to do is get Jack a body, then perform the ritual. Without so much flash this time." Midnight blue eyes twinkled. "We'll get this done," and with a smile he said the name, "Omi."  
  
"We will...Nagi." Omi sniffled happily. "We will. And you'll enjoy being young again."  
  
*  
  
Omi watched, plagued with helpless horror as his body plotted with Nagi's newly possessed one. Then, feeling a boiling heat near him, he realized that Nagi's soul was trapped in the same situation.   
  
/Good job, Weiß. You've screwed us all over, now haven't you?/  
  
/You're one to speak. Weren't you the one who worked for them? Didn't you have any idea that this was possible?/ Omi didn't know how to handle the guilt. He knew if he couldn't escape it soon, he wouldn't be able to keep himself from cracking. But who was there to help him through this predicament?  
  
/Like I gave a shit about those three. Wait... there's a third, isn't there?/  
  
/Yes, there is. You'd best be careful what you say./  
  
/It doesn't matter now. We've completely fucked the future up. I doubt Crawford is going to have a good time dealing with this one./  
  
In the silence, a third voice rang out, slow and steady.  
  
/Crawford, did you say? I'd forgotten about the prospect./ The new frigidity, the third Estet member's manifestation, floated between them curiously.   
  
/Don't tell me - you're going to possess Brad and give him the ultimate payback./ Nagi guessed.  
  
/Close, but no. Bradley doesn't do a thing for me. I've had my eye on a quick young body for ages. Don't blink, boys, lives will be going fast in a few days - including yours./  
  
/We're doomed./ Omi moaned dejectedly.  
  
/There's no need to state the obvious, blondie./ Nagi replied scornfully, inwardly wondering how hard Crawford would kick himself in the ass for leaving him to die, again.   
-----  
  
[1] = "Run." 


	6. Chapter 5: Held

A/N: ... Been a while. O_o Does anyone even remember this one?...  
  
--  
  
~ 5 ~ Held  
  
"This shattered dream you cannot justify.."  
- Pat Benatar, Invincible  
  
--  
  
"I couldn't kill him..." Aya whispered, gripping tightly the broom in his hand.   
  
Ken nodded lightly as he swung his legs from atop the Koneko's main counter. "That's all he said." He'd used a light blue bandanna to hide the bandage around his head, which he tugged at nervously. The tight gauze itched, wrapped so tightly against his skin, and his hair was all mussed. "We can't blame Youji, really. I mean..."  
  
Aya waved the issue away quickly and continued sweeping. "Wakatta." He looked back up at Ken when Kiki darted past his broom to take her place on the counter.   
  
The brunette looked distant as he held his hand out, allowing the kitten to run her body along beneath it. To kill a friend. For Ken, it wasn't such an elusive concept - though still disheartening. For Youji, it was much more than that. They had only to see how much damage Omi would cause.   
  
"I just wish she hadn't died so early," Ken whispered. "We'd barely returned then..."  
  
"Momoe?"  
  
"Yeah. She was always so sweet. And I'm sure there was some point in the past week when she would've intervened and prevented all of this. I know there's something she could have done." Ken paused as Aya stalked quietly toward him. "...What?"  
  
"Daijoubu ka?" he asked quietly.   
  
"Yeah--"  
  
"--Usotsuki." The redhead leaned forward, tracing his fingers lightly against Ken's cheek. "Don't lie to me." Their noses almost collided. "You're playing regrets; you know full well that you're not allowed to."  
  
Ken looked into Aya's expectant gaze, and he could almost see his own glistening chocolate-colored eyes giving his thoughts away. Closing his hand, he realized that Kiki had left them a while ago. "I just..." he shrugged, "I just don't want anyone else to die." His voice felt smaller, his throat tighter. "I don't--"  
  
Aya's lips caught his mouth mid-word for a short kiss. A strong arm caught him as he began to fall backward, and they broke away from each other as he regained his balance.   
  
"It'll be ok," Aya nodded, combing Ken's hair back into place with a finger. "There are two people in this world who I would die for, and I've promised that I will make both of them happy." His eyes sparkled with faceted amethyst vehemence.  
  
And for a moment, Ken felt himself doubt Aya's reasons for noting such things, forgetting almost the blaze behind his steel exterior. Only for a moment. He knew what Aya really meant, could translate those words like clockwork in his heart. Letting out a soft breath, he nodded. "Youji needs that."  
  
The instant was broken by a soft mewling near the door, where Kiki had taken it upon herself to glare viciously at the lazing florists. Aya reached into his pocket to quiet the watch alarm that had begun to sound.   
  
"Time to open shop," Ken murmured, gingerly tugging at the bandanna that masked his gauzed head injuries. "Let's hope Manx doesn't come in today."  
  
*  
  
Fallacy.  
  
/All of life... is a goddamned fallacy./  
  
God... *damned*.  
  
Schuldich stared at the ceiling of the Schwarz household, watching patterns dance before his eyes against the rugged terrain of plaster and paint. His arms twitched from their position beneath his head, and he squinted away an odd green glow that had splashed itself into his mind. He'd wanted so often to just reach a hand up from his position on the couch and flatten the bumps, hundreds of millions of them, just to achieve perfection. But whenever he tried, he found that he was too far from them, with his arm extended and palm flat open. Perfection just wasn't easy to achieve.  
  
Nagi, the brat of a telekinetic, could do it easily if he tried. Unfortunately the teenager never achieved that level of boredom, in his job and shocking youth, he'd achieved a much higher level of boredom - apathy.  
  
Apathy fit him, surprisingly well. After all, what better reaction to all of life than none at all? All images and reality one perceives is merely a physical reaction that occurs between the brain and eyes of a person's physical body. The rest is left to the imagination and mind of the viewer. If all of life is a physical reaction, how can one be sure to avoid or observe imperfection? What better way to deal with the inability to observe true imperfection than to ignore it all?   
  
Schuldich shook his head. Nagi thoughts. Nagi's thoughts. They'd been overwhelming in the past few days, what with the excitement of the artifact. What a confusing little mind the kid had. Even worse were his rebellious tendencies; he's just realizing his role in Crawford's plans and wants to go out on his own. Nearly blasphemous thoughts, when Schwarz could become an ultimate power. But the notion did make Schuldich think - which isn't always a good thing.   
  
Why *should* he stay with the prick that wouldn't even listen to him? Especially when he could make a better living on his own?  
  
And what in all of hell was the point to being evil?!  
  
"Dammit! Stop it Nagi!" Schuldich hit his temple with the heel of his palm. Having spent so much time home with the boy must've leaked something into his brain. The thoughts were getting stronger each day. Half the time, he almost believed them. The other half, he had enough trouble dealing with his own perverted self.   
  
As if that weren't enough. It was some sneaking suspicion he had, as Crawford had implied earlier, that he actually was starting to care for the boy. For Nagi. The very implication disturbed him. Love itself was bad enough, he'd experienced that through people's thoughts throughout his entire lifetime... but the act of loving - holding love himself - seemed impossible. Schuldich had grown impervious to the general human's emotions since he'd learned to experience them vicariously. Emotions were nothing to him. So how could this one have gotten to him?  
  
Schuldich sighed as he relaxed back onto the leather couch, feeling the thoughts grow definitively stronger and louder. "Bishounen's home..." he stated exhaustedly to no one, settling himself in for another lazy nap. He closed his eyes and tossed over as the doorknob turned.  
  
*  
  
Omi watched blankly as the world passed by. He'd been with Nagi the entire night, both of them trying to think of a way to prevent the third Estet executive from gaining a body, but they had no idea who the body could be. Nagi had tried various times to see if his power would work, but barely managed to move anything. Omi wondered if Nagi's thought-driven power were still his own, why was he having trouble using it?  
  
As he worked over the logistics in his thoughts, he realized that his body was following Nagi's into a foreign apartment. Schwarz's apartment?  
  
/Nagi, do you live here?/  
  
/Yeah, this is where we live. Cozy, huh?/  
  
The younger boy continued to the kitchen, but Omi remained near the door, staring at a sleeping form. Schuldich. He sensed a smirk forming on his lips.   
  
Then his entire essence became frigid with panic.  
  
/Nagi! How important is Schuldich to Schwarz?/  
  
/Well, Crawford's the leader, but Schuldich advises. You don't think they'd.../  
  
/I would imagine that they're pretty mad at Crawford. Taking his team would be a good way to exact revenge./ Omi felt calm for some reason, dissecting Estet's vendetta. /Do you think he'll hear you?/  
  
/I'll try anyway./  
  
*  
  
"What went wrong?" Manx burst into the flower shop at full speed, pushing through the doors with such force that the hinges cracked, and the doors immediately slammed shut from the ricochet. The horde of fangirls that had accumulated within the first half-hour of opening time immediately silenced, taking one look at the expressly unhappy woman in red and marching straight out. It was obvious that she was here neither for business nor play - she looked as if she could kill someone. And she probably had done it before too, one muttered, with the lack of cloth in her skirt.   
  
Ken regarded her killer look with surprise, and Aya followed the departing swarm with his eyes. Things just weren't going his way lately. "Manx... How did you know?"   
  
"I didn't get a report." Manx turned to confirm the last girl had left.  
  
Aya nodded, then extracted a ring of keys from the counter. "I'll lock it."  
  
"Report?" Ken asked. "Since when do we send reports?"  
  
Ah. Manx bit her lip. All of these years, and still Omi hadn't told them. "Omi sends short reports indicating when missions have concluded, so that we don't overwork you boys." Ken seemed to buy it. "But I'm more concerned that I haven't received anything from the last mission yet. Are Balinese and Bombay all right?"  
  
"They're fine. They're alive," Aya replied stiffly, which was normal for him. Ken swallowed nervously, hoping the informant wouldn't delve any further. They *had* failed the mission, and it had been the result of Omi's tampering - whoever had control of Omi. The situation was too outrageous to believe, and most likely provoke obvious thoughts of a traitor.   
  
Manx leveled her gaze with the brunette's, her voice softening a bit. The solemnity in her expression had faded to curiosity. "Observations taken from other agents state that the museum was left in much more of a mess than is characteristic of Weiß. And the complaint of a missing artifact. Did you get it?..."  
  
Ken shrugged. "Estet doesn't have it," he said absently, going back to work on a bouquet.   
  
"Do you have it?"  
  
"No."  
  
Manx exhaled. "Do you know who does?"  
  
"Schwarz."  
  
Manx stiffened. "Your possibly worst enemies - who are supposed to be dead - have the artifact that could bring end to earth as we know it? Need I remind you that they kept your sister for their own purposes, Fujimiya? Which they have yet to carry out."  
  
Before Aya could respond, his eyes slit dangerously and fists clenching tightly, Ken stepped in front of him. "Yes, Manx, but we can *beat* them. We just need to find them."  
  
Manx's eyes thinned as she crossed her arms. "... Where's Youji?"  
  
"Apartment. It's his day off."  
  
"Where's Omi?"  
  
"He's... studying." Ken wished he hadn't tried to lie. He knew the second the words dropped from his lips they weren't right.   
  
Manx slammed her parcel onto the counter. "Security tapes - film which Bombay should have taken care of. He decided to take care of you all instead," she looked at both of them steadily, wavering for neither the teal nor violet eyes that challenged her. "Explain. Now."  
  
*  
  
Schuldich frowned, his eyes still closed from the sleep hovering in his mind /Nagi?/  
  
/Schuldich, you can hear me?!/  
  
/How the hell couldn't I, with you screaming like that?/ The telepath sat up, noting the noises in the kitchen. /What do you want?/  
  
/I want you to listen to me. Get out of here. Now. It's--/  
  
/What'd you do, bring a whore home?/ Schuldich yelped when he felt a force shove him to the floor. "Hey, you don't have to be so mean, you could just ask!" He pushed himself up to a sitting position.  
  
/It worked?!/ Nagi paused to think. His powers were still active, held back only by what David could see. Though the telekinesis was a physical ability, he could still control it with his own consciousness and will! Now, if only...  
  
/Hell yes, what'd you expect?!/ Schuldich replied.  
  
/Never mind. Just go, you ass!/  
  
"What?" Nagi called out from the kitchen. "Do you need something, Schuldich?"   
  
"Well, no I..." Schuldich paused. "I thought that you-"  
  
/SCHULDICH! GO!/   
  
Two different tones, coming from the same person. Schuldich frowned. Either Nagi was turning oddly schizo or...  
  
Again, the invisible hands attacked him, hauling him up and shoving toward the door. As soon as he hit the hallway, the force stopped, and he tumbled to his knees. He looked up to see youngest member of Weiß staring down at him.   
  
/It's not me, it's not him. It's THEM--/  
  
"What are you doing here?" Schuldich blinked, reaching for his gun.  
  
Omi smirked down at him, eyes narrowing with contempt. "I should have suspected... these children are more stubborn than we thought."   
  
A new voice in Schulidich's mind made him jump. /Schuldich, you know who I am. We're enemies, but I'm telling you, right now-you know--/ The blonde. He knew without even thinking that the blonde was not capable of looking that cold, uncaring, or malicious. He'd spent enough time in that mind to know... and he recognized that the blonde's thoughts didn't match his behavior.  
  
"Really, though," Nagi came out from the kitchen, wiping one of Farfello's knives with a towel. The Irishman's favorite knife, borrowed from the night before. "All of these new ideas. They're so rebellious. That's the downside of acquiring young talent. Isn't it, Schuldich?" The boy's lips quirked quickly, then sank into an eerie smile.  
  
That look. Schuldich backed away, reaching for the doorknob. Only one other person in the world had that look, and he was...."Oh sh---!" 


	7. Chapter 6: Faux

A/N: Whoa. Long time no see... Thanks to anyone who has reviewed to this old fic. Sorry it's weird, it's been a while!  
  
--  
  
~ 6 ~ Faux [False]  
  
"We're gonna scream until we're satisified..."  
- Pat Benatar, Invincible  
  
--  
  
Schuldich almost made it. If Nagi could have broken through one more time to help him before the door slammed shut, he would have made it. But as the door closed, so was his fate sealed.  
  
Nagi wasn't fazed as he listened to Schuldich's stream-of-consciousness cursing. While the German's mind busied with vexing the three Estet executives, Schuldich's body performed a sort of strange dance, hopping from side to side as the three gathered bodies went down to take care of the remaining Schwarz member in the house.   
  
"Jack--er... whatever-- What are you doing?" Nagi asked, pulling out a full ring of keys as he stopped before a door.  
  
"It feels like a new suit," Schuldich complained. "It's stiff and everything."  
  
"You'll get used to it," Omi said.  
  
Nagi jingled the keys before him, asking himself: "Which one?" When apparently no answer came, Nagi shook the keys angrily. "We don't have time for this boy. I'll make Crawford's death slow and painful if you don't tell me--" Suddenly, one key was raised on the ring. "That's better." Nagi hurriedly unlocked and opened the door.  
  
"Weiß!" Farfello yelled and reared dangerously as he spotted Omi, held back by chains as he jumped forward. Omi stood a foot-length away from the Irishman's face, admiring as the hallway light illuminated his form.  
  
"Right," Nagi said, slipping into the doorway. "Not anymore."  
  
Farfello stopped. "...What?"  
  
/We couldn't stop them,/ was all Schuldich could offer in his thoughts.  
  
"Don't you recognize me?" Nagi growled, "You did kill me one year ago."  
  
"Don't stay too close... Nagi," Schuldich warned. "He's a dangerous animal. We should dispose of him immediately. After all, we have to find a new body for the ceremony."  
  
"No, wait," Omi said slowly. "He is dangerous... He is an animal.... He's the one who doesn't feel pain, remember?   
  
"Look at his body, those scars. Can imagine what he's been through? What he can survive?"  
  
Nagi frowned. "Ar--Omi, you aren't suggesting that our answer has been in front of us the entire time," he scoffed.  
  
"I'm saying that time has just proven itself to be a friend," Omi replied, peering lustily into Farfello's eye. "Gentlemen, we've found him." Omi couldn't help smiling as he continued. "He's our pale horse."  
  
"So-" Schuldich pointed to Farfello, gathering his thoughts, "-We won't kill him, we'll keep him down here until we need him. And Crawford?"  
  
"I have a plan," Nagi murmured thoughtfully.  
  
"What is it?"   
  
"He dies."  
  
*  
  
Manx's eyes burned as she flipped her gaze between Ken and Aya. "I don't appreciate being lied to, not when this much is at stake. Believe me... Now, there is *much* at stake; if Schwarz has the artifact the second branch of Estet won't be far behind. Defend Omi's actions, or prepare to fight against him."  
  
Ken opened his mouth to say something, only he didn't know what to say.  
  
Then the basement door opened, and a tired-looking Youji appeared through a bed of smoke. "There isn't much to explain Manx. It's not him."  
  
"Who else could it be?"  
  
"Would you believe me, if I said 'Estet'?"  
  
"That's impossible."  
  
"If it's so damned impossible, Manx, could you explain to me why that artifact scares the hell out of you and Kritiker?"  
  
"Not Kritiker," Manx whispered.  
  
"What?" Youji blurted. "I don't understand."  
  
Manx inhaled deeply. It was time to stop being the messenger and take action. Kritiker had only so much power in this situation, and she could offer so much more. Deep in her heart, entwined with the fear of the truth, was the knowledge that Kritiker didn't have.   
  
"*They* don't understand the full story behind this incident," Manx continued. "They know what happened last year will repeat itself if the artifact is not recovered. But they don't understand that the incident will occur at the hands of the same perpetrators.  
  
She avoided the strange looks the three Weiß members were giving her.  
  
"When I was a girl, before I became Manx, I engrossed myself in a religion that understood the strength of powers like Estet. Wicca. I was a witch."  
  
"Do you know what we're facing?" Aya asked curtly. He began to grow irritated at the lack of information Weiß seemed to be faced with with this new predicament.  
  
Manx nodded. "War, pestilence, and famine."  
  
"A witch who reads the bible?" Youji raised an eyebrow. "You're one well-rounded woman."  
  
"For once, I'll accept that compliment," Manx said dryly  
  
"Wait," Ken interrupted, holding his hand out as he racked his brain. "Those are .. the horsemen right? And the fourth--"  
  
"We avoided the fourth last year," Manx sad gravely. "But we'll have to try again."  
  
"So that means--" Youji was interrupted by the phone. He considered letting the machine pick it up, but he needed a distraction to calm the heavy thoughts in his mind. "-Last night, Omi wasn't fighting, he was recruiting. --Moshi moshi."  
  
"That must be it."  
  
*  
  
When Crawford opened the door to the apartment, the last thing he expected to find was an unconscious Nagi blocking the entrance. "Nagi?" Crawford asked in alarm, bending forward to feel the boy's pulse. It was faint and fast, a dangerous combination. "Nagi, can you hear me? Dammit, we shouldn't have left you..."  
  
He remained completely unaware of the real struggle occuring in the young boy's body. David Pulmin's spirit was fighting not for control, but to relinquish momentary custody back to Nagi's consciousness. It was this turmoil that caused the convincing weakened state. Meanwhile, Nagi fought to warn his leader of the oncoming danger. But David's hold prevented him from getting the message through.  
  
"Crawford..." Nagi groaned, his eyes fluttering as Crawford gently shook him. "Don't--- Leave-... Kill..."  
  
/Crawford!/ Schuldich managed to get through. The clairvoyant flicked his gaze around the apartment, before spotting Schuldich's still form, limbs strewn uncomfortably over the couch. /Crawford you need to--/  
  
/--I know,/ Crawford interrupted, pulling out his weapon. /They're still here aren't they?/  
  
"Youji-kun?" a familiar, sweet voice echoed from the kitchen. Then its owner cleared his throat, and tried several more times. "Youji-kun. Youji-kun? I don't have much time."  
  
"You've got that right," Crawford muttered, quietly clicking the safety off, advancing in the direction of Omi's voice.   
  
/No, Crawford-- Listen to me! Doesn't anyone in this fucking team listen?! Crawford!/  
  
*  
  
"Youji-kun?"  
  
Youji froze. That was Omi's voice on the phone, full of its natural sweetness. He tried to remember that it wasn't really the genki teenager, but when he did that, he could only feel a stab of remorse for the boy. Manx, Aya, and Ken all looked at him questioningly as he struggled to find his own voice. "Omi?"  
  
"Trace it," Manx hissed.  
  
"Youji-kun, I don't have much time," Omi whispered desperately.  
  
Youji shook his head and answered: "What is it Omi? Where are you?"  
  
"Youji-kun, I just wanted to say. Schwarz is--"  
  
A gunshot finished his sentence.  
  
"Omi! OMI!" Youji yelled into the receiver. The sound of a body falling filled the line, before it went dead.  
  
*  
  
"--Gone," Omi finished, still aiming his gun where Crawford once stood.  
  
/Bastards.../ Schuldich thought in agony, watching as his body peered over Crawford's bleeding torso, asking if the American was dead yet. /He didn't have a chance./  
  
Omi's consciousness floundered in the sudden grief surrounding him. The Schwarz members did have the capacity to feel, he realized with surprise. Nagi in particular, was having trouble with a sudden torrent of emotions. /I'm so sorry,/ was all he could think, feeling the viciousness of the spirit inside his body.  
  
Feelings were internal matters. They could be buried, but were not tangible. They could be locked away, but with no true hiding place. Where did feelings go when one did not use them in everyday life?  
  
"Stupid American," Nagi muttered, putting his face close to Crawford's as Crawford took slow, painful breaths, "Your team is ours." David couldn't help but watch with curiosity the soul he saw through Crawford's eyes. They were void of fear and anger; all that registered through his expression was extreme disbelief. "You know who we are now, don't you?-" Nagi smiled cruelly, "-You tried to steal our future. Now you won't see the rest of yours."  
  
"What are we doing? We can't just sit around and watch Crawford die!" Schuldich exclaimed, a tone of victory in his voice. "We've got a ceremony to perform!"  
  
"Fine, we'll dump his body somewhere," Omi replied, admiring the weapon in his hand. "I think I remember a good place."  
  
Two light teardrops fell from Nagi's eyes, splashing onto Crawford's cheek.   
  
/Crawford.../  
  
"David, what's wrong?" Omi asked. "--I mean, Nagi." He smiled sheepishly.  
  
Nagi looked up and shook his head, wiping at his face. "Silly boy and his emotions."  
  
None of the intruding spirits realized it was the first time these bodies - including Crawford - had actually seen Nagi Naoe cry.  
  
[tbc] 


End file.
